The Hour Passes
by Courtney.Wortney
Summary: The story of how a simple case became more fatal than any before. A story of how bullets distract, and knives can sometimes leave bigger holes than bullets.
1. Chapter 1

The hour passes. One minute after another the hour passes. There is no way to stop time and think about what you need to do next. You only have time to regret what you haven't done. And regret falls so heavy in a tragic event. For not listening another hour before. Or not preventing what was going to happen an hour later.

Humans can live to 100 and for such a long lifetime one hour rarely makes a difference. One day is made up of a whole 24 of them. 24 hours that each have their own meaning even if you think the day was uneventful you are wrong. An hour is sometimes the most eventful thing. This hour in particular was the hour John realized he only had till the end of it to stop his friend from dying, something that can happen in one second. One second your alive and the next you're not. I could go on about seconds and how even more you can cram into those but there is a story to tell and you have a life full of hours, minutes and seconds ahead of you that you would rather not have wasted.

The hour Sherlock spent dying was the longest hour Sherlock had ever lived. He could almost hear the long drawn out tick…tick…ticking of the clock hands of Big Ben and he could feel the life he had clung on to for 35 years drain from him. It was not a pleasant feeling to have the life drained out of you. He was rather attached to it. It had happened quickly. A knife concealed, had penetrated his lung and he was sure it had scratched his heart because it was beating slower than it normally did. John hadn't even seen it happen, Lestrade had his back turned. Neither had heard Sherlock gasp, because they had been more occupied with the other more obviously armed criminal. These two criminals were nicknamed the Kraken brothers. Named so because of their long dangling limbs they had inherited from their father. One brother was an expert on fishing drugs thrown off boats before docking and one was an expert and making sure nobody ever found out about those drugs so they got to their buyers swiftly. Sherlock, John and Lestrade had been following them for a week and 3 days. The Kraken brothers left many dead bodies in their wake. Fishermen, coast guards and bystanders who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The deaths were gruesome; Sherlock had taken the case straight away. It didn't take long for him to solve it but it was proving difficult to find evidence, once the three had found the storage of drugs it became a matter of saving themselves rather than solving the case. The Kraken bothers were fast and they were doing a good job of distracting the three with a large machine gun. Making it no sweat for the smaller less gangly brother to slip a knife into each of their backs. The smaller brother found it easy to slip the knife into the taller man's back. He was now gasping for the attention of his companion, who was next on the smaller brothers list. Two more thrusts of the knife into two more backs and they could go back to fishing for drugs and being paid ridiculous amounts of money for it. Sherlock could see the smaller brother lung for John, but the smaller brother had very clearly underestimated John's skills. John dodged him easily. The machine gun stopped firing. The tinkling of the last bullets echoed through the large warehouse. John ears were ringing, he bought his pistol up and from behind the wall shot three bullets that landed themselves in the larger armed brothers chest Lestrade crawled out from under his cover and that was when he realized Sherlock was down.

This whole affair happened very quickly it took 10 Minutes for Sherlock and John to break in and find the drugs. The brothers were working at moving them. They were taken rather by surprise. Sherlock motioned John through. And John motioned Lestrade through. Lestrade had immediately made his way to the drugs, snapping pictures, taking samples. 9 shots rang through the building, loud and demanding attention. John raised his gun and the bullets were followed by a cascade of bullets. Sherlock and John threw themselves behind a wall. It took 8 seconds for the smaller brother to make his way through the bullets safely and locate the two men who had rudely interrupted them. He started with the taller one shouting commands to the shorter sandy haired man. No one heard him drop over the noise of the bullets. But when he jumped at the shorted one he shook him off easily. The smaller brother rolled into the oncoming bullets and 7 bullets hit him one by one. The two brothers were finished, their days of fishing for drugs over on account they were both dead.  
John took 6 seconds to discover Sherlock was hurt. In these 6 seconds it took John to register how serious condition his friend was in, Lestrade had already called an ambulance and the police had already broken down both doors. Much more efficiently than Sherlock and John had done it.

"Jesus Sherlock" John gasped. Sherlock gasped nothing. Lestrade was shaking his head, Cradling it in his hands, throwing his hands in the air pacing back and forth.  
"John what do we do?" he asked. That was when John wished time would freeze and the seconds would stop ticking by. 5 days ago John wanted them to go faster, he wanted this case done. He wanted work to go faster. He wished the hours would speed by. Sirens screamed through the city. 4 police cars 3 ambulances.  
"John" Sherlock breathed. A small trail of blood ran from his mouth.  
"They're here Sherlock, they are going to do everything they can, stay with me okay, you have to stay with me" John begged. John was panicking, he could feel the blood and see where the knife had gone in one way and out through the other. It was bad, he had seen this wound before. It was a brutal wound, the kind that took away their victims breath so they couldn't shout for help.  
"I can't breathe" Sherlock coughed  
"I know Sherlock, I know but you have to try" 2 paramedics knelt down. One at Sherlock's head one at his feet. The woman's face changed colour from a bright red to grey when shes aw Sherlock. The paramedic at Sherlock's head laid a hand on his chest and put her ear close to Sherlock's mouth listening for his breathing. John counted the seconds.

10 minutes to break in  
9 bullets fired in warning  
8 seconds to kill Sherlock  
7 bullets through the smaller brother's chest  
6 seconds for John to realize  
5 days of wanting time to speed up  
4 police cars  
3 ambulances  
2 paramedics  
"One more breath Sherlock" John begged.


	2. What happens after

**All the angst all the details. If your easily effected, please do not continue reading.**

Some humans have a habit of unintentionally telling someone mediocre news and making it seem like this news they had just told you was going to bring the end of the world. For example, if you don't go on that diet it's going to be the end of the world! And some news we are told is put as 'just a friendly reminder' when really the news is more terrible than that, as if we don't want to panic people about the important stuff but we do want to make them panic about the small stuff. John listened and watched as the paramedics used just one way. Giving news as if it was nothing more than a 'just to let you know'.  
"We need to breath for him because he can't on his own"  
"The bleeding has been controlled for now but he's lost a huge amount" paramedics don't want to panic people and these paramedics certainly didn't want to panic John.

Sherlock took one more breath for John but it caused a tearing sensation in his lungs. He winced and that just hurt even more. He wanted to talk to John but every time he tried he could only gurgle. His eyes followed everything John did. When he started talking to Lestrade he used his hands to talk for him, something John rarely did, he wasn't a person who gestured. He was panicking. The next breath Sherlock tried to take didn't come. Now he was panicking. It's a human's natural state to breathe but Sherlock couldn't breathe. This wasn't normal, he could handle the major bleeding, humans bled all the time. That could be stopped but when he couldn't breathe that meant it was really bad. He was choking ,his lungs burning screaming for him to take a breath. Oh god it was painful. He hadn't realized how painful dying was. The paramedics couldn't control the bleeding because it wasn't just outside it was inside him as well. All his organs were being choked with blood. It was gruesome and Sherlock just wanted it to be over. He didn't care if he lived through this or died. He just wanted to pain to stop. John was back at Sherlock's side trying to calm him as the paramedics used him as a pin cushion. Drugs after drug He could feel everyone taking over his body. Doing all the work for him so his body could give up. John was shaking he could see every muscle twitching and every now and then he would blink heavily and look at anything other than his dying friend. This new drug they had given him was fantastic. It relaxed him and he suddenly didn't even care about the pain. His head was spinning more but it had been spinning on and off for a while but it turned sinister very fast. It took a hold of him suddenly paralyzing him taking away his right to move. He must have started really panicking about then because John grabbed his hand he saw him grab it but he couldn't feel it. He felt detached from the world. Oh god he really was dying. Shit he thought they would fix him patch him back up and send him on his way, he really didn't want to die and by the hands of a gangly looking teenager. How embarrassing. There were tubes and wires all being pulled from a bag. They were going to intubate him but he was still conscious! they couldn't!  
"it's okay Sherlock just sleep" That sounded nothing like John but he knew it was John because he could see his lips moving. John knew he was going to die as well that's why he sounded so terrible.

Sherlock was resisting to go under. His eyes were wide. His pupils dilated with the drugs. He looked mad his chest heaving with the effort of breathing through the blood. The paramedics quickly controlled the bleeding on the outside. Keeping him alive.  
"Can't" Sherlock gurgled. John looked away. Lestrade was on the phone probably with the older Holmes brother.  
"They can't" he said again  
"They have to Sherlock you're being stubborn" Was he really arguing with him right now?

John was angry with him. He relaxed and slowly let the drugs take control and send him to sleep.  
It was taking a long time because of Sherlock's stubbornness. If he had wanted to he would have just stopped working through the blood in his lungs and died in about 2 minutes but he was Sherlock and he wasn't going to let blood destroy him but it looked like I was going to. More paramedics had turned up and then he was gone.

In the tubes went. Out came the needles and the adrenaline filled vials for when his heart stopped and just like that he was dead. In a state of controlled deadness. John didn't want to stay and watch as they loaded him in the ambulance to continue their RSI procedure. He couldn't go with him even if he wanted the ambulance was too busy. So he waited for the older brother to arrive with Lestrade. Together the two waited  
"why hadn't we seen him?" Lestrade asked, John couldn't answer they just hadn't seen the smaller brother creeping around the corner. The ambulance hadn't left yet. It was still there when Mycroft turned up. Jesus, he was the last person John wanted to see. He would blame them.  
"Where is he?" he asked. John looked to Lestrade.  
"He's in the ambulance, he's not really…. Alive at the moment see they put-"  
"Stop talking Inspector Lestrade" Mycroft snapped. Lestrade was more than happy to stop talking. He went back to holding his head in his hands like it was too heavy for him to hold up.  
"John?" Mycroft looked at John for answers.  
"He's being RSI'ed it means rapid sequence-"  
"I know what it means Dr Watson" John wondered why he had even bothered asking then  
"He is alive just not on his own"  
Mycroft nodded and kept rocking back on his heels. He looked up at the sky, he swung his umbrella. He couldn't seem to keep still. The back of the ambulance flew open and the younger EMT that had been forgotten by everyone stepped out. He made a b-line for Mycroft. "Are you Sherlock's brother?"  
"Yes what's going on?"  
"I'm very sorry but Sherlock isn't doing well. The RSI isn't doing much for him if we can't control the bleeding in his lungs. I'm sorry, we are going to stop the procedure"  
Mycroft went bright red. He looked like he was going to murder the young EMT in front of him. They were going to let his brother die and he wasn't happy, these people were hired to save people god damn it!  
"No" he said calmly "You can't stop. You will find a way to stop the bleeding and you will keep him alive until I can see him"  
"Mycroft you can't order these people around they will have already stopped before they told you" John said  
"Shut up John" Mycroft raged "Where is he god damn it boy you will let me see him or I will have you fired!" He jutted his umbrella at his chest. The EMT looked uncomfortable he had clearly never encountered anyone who fought with a paramedic's decision but then he didn't know Mycroft. The boy nodded and lead Mycroft to the ambulance. Mycroft let the EMT enter the ambulance first. It really was shoulder to shoulder. Every space of the ambulance was filled with paramedic and equipment. Sherlock didn't even look like Sherlock. His curly hair was wet with sweat and blood and his chest was exposed showing large bloody dressings. The bag mask that was supposed to be attached to him was lying on the stretcher next to him. Mycroft's heart sunk and his stomach dropped at exactly the same time. Sherlock wasn't going to come back from this. His legs were weakening. His eyes stinging and his mouth was dry. The realization crept over him slowly but all together all consuming. It was going to have lasting effects. "I'm sorry Mr Holmes but your brother has died" a voice said from beside him. He had gone blind his eyes clouded by red. He could only see Sherlock unblinking staring at the ceiling of the ambulance. Someone must have realized that this looked terrible because the blanket covering him was moved over his head and Mycroft was forced from the ambulance. That was it the last time Mycroft would see him and it was the most terrible thing and the most terrible way. Why had they let him in the ambulance? Why had he even ordered to see him. He would need to rub his eyes about a million times to un see what he had seen. Shit now he had to tell John and Lestrade. He couldn't even breathe properly through the heavy feeling in his chest. The door of the ambulance flung open nearly knocking Mycroft out. "Sir, Mr Holmes he's okay he's alive" Mycroft didn't even know how that was possible but he believed it anyway.

"Well Mr Holmes" the paramedic started "We don't think it was in his lungs and his heart was working perfectly fine apart from the lack of blood none of his organs or were affected. We managed to control the bleeding before starting him on RSI and the blood from around his lungs was drained in the ambulance. It was a tension hemothorax that was causing him to stop breathing. Normally people don't do so well with RSI but when we stopped he started breathing on his own."

Mycroft is a very rational person and this took him some time to process. One minute his brother was dead and the next he was alive and breathing. This is a huge amount of news and can take longer than normal for anyone to process. Mycroft had processed it in about ten seconds. Mycroft wasn't just 'normal'. The doors slammed shut the ambulance took off lights and sirens blaring. Mycroft didn't even get time to tell Lestrade and John he was alive. They could wait and Sherlock wasn't leaving in that ambulance without him. John lept at the sound of sirens. He threw off the blanket the police had draped over him and watched in horror as the ambulance sped off with out him.  
"Follow that bloody ambulance!"


End file.
